You
sell three of them to your
publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your
brother-in-law at the band, then execute a debt/equity swap with an
associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax
exemption for five cows.

The milk rights of the six cows
are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island company secretly
owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows
back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns
eight cows, with an option on one more.

Sell one cow to buy a new
president of the United States, leaving you with nine cows. No
balance
sheet provided with the release.

The public buys your bull.

A French
CorporationYou have two cows. You go on strike because you want three cows.

A
Japanese CorporationYou have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of
an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.

You then create clever cow cartoon images called 'Cowkimon'
and market them World-Wide.

A
German CorporationYou have two cows. You reengineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and
milk themselves.

An
Italian CorporationYou have two cows, but you don't know where they are.
So you break for lunch.

A
→Russian CorporationYou have two cows.
You invent a fantastic all-purpose cow, but don't
produce it ‒ just discuss it during drunken
conversations at corporate parties.

A Swiss CorporationYou have 5000 cows, none of which belong to you.
You charge others for storing them.